


Ghosts Both Literal and Figurative

by pikedexter



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bobby | Trevor Wilson Defense Squad, Bobby | Trevor Wilson-centric, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26731870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikedexter/pseuds/pikedexter
Summary: Bobby had a hard time losing his three best friends at once.Aka: Bobby was their friend, not an asshole from the beginning fight me
Comments: 8
Kudos: 102





	Ghosts Both Literal and Figurative

**Author's Note:**

> hey look its me again. Will I ever write from the point of view of the actual characters? The world may never know. But hey at least this one is about an actual character from the show.  
> TW for like a wisp of suicidal ideation but its like one sentence and not quite that but I'd rather err on the side of caution.

Bobby was pissed. The guys were 15 minutes late for their performance. He knew they -- mostly Reggie -- could get distracted sometimes but this was a big gig. The crew kept knocking on the door, asking where they were and he kept telling them he didn't know but they would be.

But then 15 turned into 30 turned into an hour and he started to get more and more worried. They'd never be this late. Especially for this important of a gig with so many execs in the audience.

After two his stomach was in knots and he had a sick feeling. He couldn't stop pacing. His parents had tried to get him to go home with them but he insisted on waiting.

After three the crew made him leave. He packed all the gear they had pushed to the side into the back of the van and drove home.

When he got there and walked in the door his parents were sat side by side on the couch looking upset. He slowed as he came into the living room, seeing the tears in their eyes.

"Bobby, you should sit down," his mom said. Bobby shook his head slowly.

"You should listen to your mother," his dad said softly.

"No! I don't want to sit down! Just tell me!" he snapped. His parents shared a look.

"No one understands exactly what happened, something to do with street hot dogs, but Luke, Alex and Reggie died tonight. Honey, we're so sorry." His mom said.

It took a moment for the words to sink in but when they did he dropped to the floor, a sob wrenched from his chest. His parents were by his side in an instant, their arms around him, murmuring words he couldn't hear. His three best friends in the world. Gone. And he blew them off to hit on some girl. Sobs wracked his body and eventually he passed out.

He barely left his room for a week. The house even longer. Reporters and journalists kept calling the house but he refused to talk to any of them. He wasn't going to talk to some stranger looking to sell airtime or newspapers or magazines about how he lost all three of his best friends from childhood in one night. About how close he was to having gone with them.

The only time he left was for the funerals. And those were the hardest part, one right after the other. Luke's parents were unable to hold it together. Reggie's having hit the last straw, keeping their distance from each other. He wanted to yell at Alex's, how dare they act heartbroken after pushing him away?

His parents kept trying to get him to go to school but he refused. Ended up flunking his senior year. But what did it matter? He didn't have his friends or his band. On his bad days he was mad at them for doing something as dumb as getting hotdogs out of an oldsmobile. On his really bad days he wished he had been there with them. Eventually his parents pushed him into therapy and he was able to finish out the classes he needed to graduate.

It wasn't until years later he came across Luke's old songbook. He hadn't meant to take credit in the beginning. He just didn't want the tragedy of what happened to overshadow the music or to have to keep rehashing the worst night of his life.

But fame has a way of getting to your head and boy did it get to his.

When the music started playing on its own, the shower turning on and his name written on the fogged mirror he thought he had finally lost it. That the guilt had become too much.

When he saw them on his daughter's laptop he felt like he was going to pass out.

That night sitting in the audience he felt a mix of emotions. Anxiety and the ever present guilt. Of course they knew what he'd done. It wasn't just his personal ghosts haunting him but the boys themselves too. But he also, somewhere in there, was happy. Glad to see they were up where they belonged, where they had always belonged. They were the ones with the real talent after all.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed! You can find on tumblr as reginaldphantom.


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